


Pathways

by black_talon



Category: Per qualche dollaro in più | For A Few Dollars More (1965), Westworld (TV)
Genre: M/M, Original Characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 11:23:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15095690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_talon/pseuds/black_talon
Summary: The ending is always the same, Mortimer rides off alone, but somehow Manco broke the cycle. Now they ride together on a path that even Manco isn’t sure off anymore.





	Pathways

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a bit of a strange mix, especially considering how little fanfics there are within this fandom, but this idea has been stuck in my head for awhile now and I can’t seem to stop thinking about it.

The bandit spun around, hitting the floor with a satisfying thud.

 

In the last moments that Indio had left to live, he tried to raise his gun back up. Mortimer didn’t flinch when the barrel faced towards him. Instead, he cocked Manco’s gun back, ready to fire again. It didn’t come to that. As much as he wanted to rain several bullets down into the man, Indio passed his last breath and fell limb.

 

Mortimer had spent ages dreaming of this moment, he’d fantasized how he could extract his revenge in bloody ways, but all what it had come down to was a single bullet. It seemed fitting, considering when it had been a single bullet to end his sister’s life.

 

“Bravo.” Mortimer glanced to Manco. He couldn’t have possibly killed Indio without him. Instead of Indio on the floor it would’ve been him.

 

Forcing his legs to move, Mortimer crossed the distance between him and the bandit. He stopped next to him, pressing down on the man’s wrist for good measure before reaching for the golden watch. Even knowing that the watch was the exact same as his, he glanced down to the portrait of his sister. Her youthful eyes, frozen in time, looked at him with the same adoration she had for him when she had been alive.

 

It had been a very long seven years since he had first made the promise of killing Indio and now the journey was finally over.

 

“Seems to be a family resemblance.” Manco was standing next to him now, watching him carefully. Mortimer pocketed both watches. “Naturally between brother and sister.” He hands Manco’s gun when he motions for it. The action anchors him back to the present.

 

“My boy, you’ve become rich.” He pushes a smile to his lips.

 

“You mean we’ve become rich, old man.”

 

“No it’s all for you. I think you deserve it.”

 

“What about our partnership?”

 

He hesitates at the sound of Manco’s voice. For the brief time he had known the bounty hunter, he had assumed that he would be leaving after finishing the job, but now he could hear the note of hopefulness in his voice. For some reason his next words felt difficult. As he always did whenever the swell of emotions became too much, he reverted back into auto-pilot.

 

“Maybe next time.” Fearing that he would go back on his word, Mortimer turned away. The ethurpoia of what he had felt from before had started to wane.

 

He walked over to his horse and climbed over the saddle. Just as he nudged his horse into a trot he heard a gunshot and a fall of a body. Spinning around, his heart leapt, but it settled when he saw Manco standing over another body; Luigi Pistillia, the last of the gang.

 

“Any trouble, boy?” He called.

 

“No old man, thought I was having trouble with my adding. S’alright now.”

 

Mortimer turned back around. The sun was setting, making the shadows of the hills stretch over the terrain impossibly long. Even though he yearned to turn back he knew that the road ahead was only for one rider. Now that he had laid rest to the final chapter of his story, a new one awaited.

 

_Awake._

 

Mortimer woke with a slight jolt.

 

There were no blue skies above him or no ache in his body from sleeping rough outside, instead he found himself sleeping on a comfortable two poster bed, inside a familiar wooden room. To his right was an open window, letting in the sounds of clattering horse hooves and wagon wheels. A faint breeze drifted inside, doing little to cool the warmth that the morning sun had brought.

 

Mortimer remained still, waiting for the fog of sleep clear from his mind.

 

It had just been a dream. An extremely vivid dream, but a dream nonetheless. Only fragments of it remained in his head. With each passing second the memories drifted further away, until Mortimer was left with only the memory of shooting Indio.

 

His military instincts were telling him to stand up and get moving, but he paused, struggling to remember what he had been doing yesterday. Looking around the room, he searched for an answer. The hostler to his Buntline Special hung over the post of his bed and his day clothes were neatly folded on the table. There was nothing in the room that was out of the ordinary. Nothing to tell him about where he was.

 

Mortimer moved from the bed and looked outside the window instead. He recognised the town immediately. El Paso. The memories of yesterday came back to him. He had just reached El Paso and today he was going to figure out how Indio’s gang planned on stealing the vault from the bank.

 

Knowing now what he was supposed to be doing, he got changed quickly. As soon as he fixed his holster and put on his hat he left his room.

 

The wooden doors swung open as he stepped outside the bar, giving way to the heat. He breathed in the air. Rather than immediately setting out his way towards the bank, Mortimer took the time to look around.

 

Children ran across the street, laughing as they chased after a rolling piece of tumbleweed. Besides the hotel was a cart that was preparing to leave for the day. A man hoisted a pair of heavy suitcases over the top whilst a woman waited. Workers travelled down the dusty street on horses, beginning their daily commutes to and from the town. Nothing out of the ordinary.

 

His eyes drifted over to the building opposite. A young man with a poncho was standing in the shadow underneath a balcony. His posture spoke of somebody who didn’t have to be anywhere in the morning, casually leaning against a wooden beam. A cigar hung loosely from his lips and his eyes were fixed on him. There was an intensity behind his stare. The type that told him that he’d recognised him.

 

The man’s eyes never left him as he walked forward, minding the passing traffic of the street. As if he had been captured in a trance, Mortimer stood still.

 

Coming to a stop before him, he tipped his head forward. “G’mornin.”

 

“Morning.”

 

Even up close Mortimer could still feel the heat of the man’s gaze. Observing his every movement. He became suddenly aware about his hands, close to his holster. It would only take a second to draw his colt if he happened to try anything.

 

“So, colonel, what happens to bring you down to El Paso?” The blond manages to find another wooden beam to lean against, chewing cigar to the other side of his mouth.

 

Mortimer frowned. How did the man know him? Usually he had a good memory for remembering faces and names.

 

“I don’t believe I remember you, boy.”

 

For a brief moment, disappointment registered in his eyes, but it disappeared quickly. He finally looked away, breaking their eye contact.

 

“No…. no you wouldn’t,” He pauses, as if there were weight attached to the words. “I’ve been doing some research on you when I saw you arrive here.”

 

Mortimer raises his eyebrow at this. “Oh?” Maybe he’s a threat after all.

 

“Nothin’ too much, but enough to know that you’re a bounty hunter and a pretty decent one at that.”

 

It wouldn’t be too difficult to find newspaper clippings he’d been in recently or to even ask around. Not many bounty hunters dressed like him or used a colt with a shoulder stock attachment.  

 

“What’s your point?”

 

“We’re both here in El Paso for the same reason, so it might be in our best interest to take this conversation somewhere else…”

 

Mortimer regarded him carefully. Bounty hunters didn’t  work well together. Until now he had even avoided speaking to any. They were lone wolves, not pack hunters, too selfish to share their spoils with anybody else. If he hadn’t known that Indio’s gang consisted of several outlaws he would have rejected the invitation outright, but he knew that there would be a benefit for working with somebody else. He could at least listen to what he had to say. There could be information to be gained.

 

“Okay, let’s chat upstairs.”

  


\---

  


The younger man sits down and places his feet on the table as if it were his second home. He pays his surroundings no attention and looks far too comfortable to be sitting in a room with another bounty hunter he’s only just met.

 

Mortimer gestures to the bottle of whiskey but he shakes his head and instead lights another cigar. Skipping the pleasantries, they exchange information. He gets out his notebook from his breast pocket and lists off the names of the men he thinks are associated with Indio. Manco adds a few more, which surprises him. Usually he doesn’t miss any piece of information. At the end he counts fourteen bandits, each with their respected bounties. It is definitely within their interests to team up, even if they will have to split the money.

 

“How do you propose to go on from here?” He asks, breathing in the last of his cigar.

 

“One on the inside and one on the outside?” Mortimer proposes. It would be risky, but if one of them could be accepted as one of the gang then they would have a direct source of information.

 

“Sure.” A smile tugs on the side of his lip, as if he finds it funny. “But meanwhile we should wait here until one of them comes here to scout out the place.”

 

“What makes you sure that hey will?”

 

“I’ve been here for a few days and I anit seen them at all. They’re gotta visit here before they rob the place.” He explains easily.

 

Mortimer nods in agreement and takes his pipe. With the flick of his wrist he sparks a match, lighting the tobacco inside. He breathes in a few times, visibly relaxing to the familiar taste.

 

“What’s your name by the way?” It seemed only fair, since the boy knew of his.

 

“Call me Manco.”

 

“So, Manco, shall we take a look at the bank whilst we wait for them to turn up?”

 

\---

 

The bank manager gladly offered to invite them to his office. As they walked through the bank, Mortimer examined the level of security. Each room was fitted with iron bars and doors with guards equipped with rifles stationed behind the counter desks. The rooms felt like a maze, some with office desks and others with drawers full of paper. They wouldn’t get to see where the vault was, but at least they had an idea of what Indio would have to get through.  

 

They asked a few questions, feigning interest about wanting to open an account there. Halfway through the conversation the manager started to look dubious, doubting that they were interested. He eventually found an excuse to leave, which was fine by them since they had already seen everything they needed too.

 

When they were finished they started to walk back across the street.

 

“They’re gonna have a hard time getting through all of that.” Manco commented. He nodded in agreement, watching a couple in the middle of the street gawking at the scenery. Nothing about their outfits stood out, but there was something different about them. They were completely oblivious to the passing traffic, a passing cart barely missed them. When they caught him looking, the woman started to approached him. Before he had the chance to react, she took ahold of his arm. His immediate reaction was to shove her away, but his good manners stopped him from doing so.

 

“Amazing, darling, come here!” The man behind her stumbled closer, but before he had the chance to touch him too he stepped back.

 

“Oh, he’s a bit shy.” She giggled. Mortimer didn’t know how to respond. He couldn’t decide whether he should be confused or amused. The way the couple were acting was...strange. _Probably intoxicated_ , he decided.

 

“Come on, let’s get going.” Manco stepped between them and glared at the two. The gesture almost felt territorial. The woman quickly let go of him. Despite her forwardness, Mortimer tipped his hat to the lady before following the other bounty hunter.

 

“This area seems to attract all sort of strange folk.”

 

“Yeah? You seen a few around here before?” Manco asked, turning to look at him with interest.

 

“A few.”

 

They entered the saloon. By now the afternoon crowd had started to fill up the empty seats. There were many workers who had come in for a drink after their shifts and others who didn’t look like they could hold a job to keep them occupied throughout the day. In the corner a croupier had set up, dealing cards to a group who had a few coins to spare. All what was missing was music.

 

Four men stood at the bar with their backs turned, drinking in complete silence. Mortimer would have paid them no attention, but he caught the reflection of their faces in the mirror from behind the bar. He recognised two; Nino with his scarred cheek and trademark two bullet belts looped around his large chest and Juan Wild, a bug eyed man with an unfortunate hunchback. Both of them were known associates of Indio.

 

He glanced at Manco who didn’t hesitate to continue walking inside. Rather than sticking to their initial plan of returning back to his room they took a seat instead. The outlaws paid them no attention as the bartender walked over, offering them a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. Manco nodded and slid over two silver coins.

 

They didn’t need to speak. Mortimer could tell by the sharp look in Manco’s eyes that he knew that they were part of Indio’s gang. It wasn’t a coincidence that Indio’s accomplices were all drinking in a bar together, directly opposite to the bank he was planning on robbing too.

 

Mortimer reached over and poured them a drink.

 

“Tell me colonel, were you ever young?”

 

It was a simple tease, but it made Mortimer falter. A shake in his hand caused some whiskey to spill over the edge of the glass. He cleared his throat, placing the bottle back down. _Strange_.

 

“Yep and just as reckless as you.” He returned. Manco smirked and lit another cigar, leaning back in his chair.

 

“But then something happened. Made life very precious to me.” He brushed his hand over his waistcoat, feeling the outline of his watch.

 

He ought to be focusing on overhearing any conversation between the four outlaws, not talking about his past with somebody he hardly knew. He undid the knot of his tie to relieve the pressure that had developed around his throat, noticing the way Manco’s eyes followed his hands, lingering on his throat.

 

Before he could think it over, he heard Juan’s voice.

 

“Think this is going to work?”

 

“Sure, the boss has this all figured out.”

 

“I hope so, we only have until tomorrow.”

 

“You done now? Let’s get this over with so we can get back.”

 

Empty glasses hit the bar and boots shuffled across the wooden floor, signalling their exit. Mortimer risked glancing over his shoulder, watching their backs as they left.

 

They both stood up.

 

“Let’s go upstairs, we can watch them from the window.” It was a good view that overlooked most of the town. Following them now would only raise suspicion.

 

When they reached his room Mortimer found his spyglass inside one of his bags. He joined Manco by the window and watched the group walk over from the bar towards the bank. It was only a few houses down the street.

 

They surely didn’t plan on doing anything as risky tonight. Mortimer chewed his lip, trying to think through what the men could be planning.

 

“Look, the guards.” He heard the wooden floorboards shift, probably moving to see more.

 

Lifting the spyglass up, he focused on the guards that had just exited the bank. They were checking the lock on the doors. When they finished they started to walk around around the bank, probably a routine check at the end of their shift.

 

Near the bank Mortimer could see the four outlaws scattered around, each keeping an eye on the men as they walked. He could see some of their lips moving in a familiar pattern, counting numbers it seemed to him.

 

As he watched, Mortimer felt a warmth by his side and a hand graze his hip. His hands tightened around the spyglass. It was probably a mistake. The boy was only trying to get a better look, there was no need for him to think otherwise.

 

When the guards disappeared behind the bank he felt the hand near his hip move again, brushing further up along his side. Definitely not accidental. Split between his focus on the men and the warmth on his side, he was having difficulty trying to decide whether he should say something.  

 

The guards took what seemed like an eternity to walk around the bank. By the time they reached the door Mortimer felt a lot warmer than he had standing outside in the midday sun. Once it became apparent that the gang was only there to count the time it took for the guards to conduct their patrol he snapped the eyeglass shut. The warmth disappeared, instead Manco was standing at the other side of the window still looking outside.

 

He frowned. Something had definitely touched him. His senses were sharp, built over years of serving in the military and a few more as a bounty hunter, but Manco had been too far away to reach over. Perhaps it was because of a bad nights sleep that he was imagining things.

 

“So, they know how long it takes them to leave the front door unguarded. Think they’re gonna try for the front?” Manco returned his attention back onto him.

 

“It would seem so.”

 

He reached for his pipe, searching for something to keep his attention off the blonde for awhile. “And judging by their conversation at the bar they’ll hit it tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah… having trouble there?”

 

His match wasn’t striking properly. Pulling another from his box, he ran it along the table. There was a slight tremor to his hands, making it difficult to lit the match.

 

“No, just a bad match.” He smiled, finally looking up to Manco. He wasn’t acting like his usual self. Something wasn’t right.

 

Manco crossed the distance between them until he stood closer than the woman had in the morning. Their feet touched each other, making Mortimer tense. “Easy.” He smiled and took his cigar from his mouth, pressing it inside his pipe. The cigar started to burn the tobacco.

 

At such a close distance Mortimer could see his face more clearly. His skin reminded him of the west. Tanned from the relentless sun and rough like the mountains. He felt compelled to touch it, to see how it felt. Although he was much younger there were wrinkles around his eyes, probably from squinting too much in the sun. His eyelashes dipped down as he focused on keeping his cigar against the tobacco long enough to light it.

 

Mortimer would be a fool to say he didn’t find the man attractive. He had been with a few men in the past, so his attraction to another man wasn’t out of character, but what he didn’t expect was for him to react this way in the circumstance they were both in. He ought to be focusing on Indio. When the outlaw had been caught and put behind bars he had felt disappointed, sad even, that he hadn’t gotten the opportunity to get his revenge. Now he had been given chance to find him again, he should have been keeping his mind on finding him, not allowing his body to react like a teenager.

 

“Thanks.” He managed to say. Manco leaned back slowly, still smiling, as if he knew what turmoil was currently going through his mind. Facing him now he could feel the heat again from behind his eyes. He was still close enough for him to feel the warmth from his body.

 

 _Focus_. Mortimer reached for his waistcoat pocket, reminding himself of the watch inside it.

 

“We should probably turn in early. I didn’t sleep too well last night.” He stepped away, forcing some distance between them.

 

After a few seconds of what felt like hesitation, Manco finally spoke. “Sounds good to me.”

 

Mortimer looked back. Manco remained stood still, watching him curiously. Was he waiting for him to change his mind?

 

“So... I’ll see you tomorrow.” He continued, trying to prompt the man to leave without being too direct. It was silly of him, as if he didn’t want to reject him outright.

 

“I hear you. See you are the bar at noon.” He nodded, slowly walking back before leaving the room.

 

Mortimer tried not to feel disappointed.

 

\---

 

He was standing besides a window.

 

It wasn’t the same window as his hotel, in fact he was in a completely different building. The building looked out to the back of the bank. Outside he could see Manco, looking outside a shop window with something in his hands that looked like a trigger. He followed a piece of string leading from his hand to floor outside. Nestled in the sand were eight pieces of explosives. In his own hands was his colt, with the shoulder stock already affixed.

 

It was as if he were inhabiting another body. Not his own. He couldn’t remember how he got here or what they were doing. The only thing that he did know that it had to involve Indio somehow.

 

He waited in the room until the sound of thumping of hooves echoed around the street. It had to be Indio. They had been waiting for them to come.

 

Mortimer brought the colt up, ready to take aim.

 

As soon as the cart turned the corner, all hell broke loose. Explosions erupted from underneath the sand, sending horses flying back and their riders underneath them. Through the debris Mortimer struggled to see any of the bandits, but he couldn’t wait for the sand to clear. He took aim and fired. A shape fell from a horse, hitting the floor. Mortimer didn’t cease shooting. He kept firing, not knowing whether his bullets were hitting the carriage, horses or men.

 

Eventually the mist died down, revealing a broken cart and several bodies on the floor. He couldn’t count all the bodies from where he was positioned. In the frenzy it had been too difficult to tell whether any of them had managed to slip way.

 

A stillness settled.

 

He took the opportunity of quiet to look over to Manco, who looked just as breathless as he did. They shared a smile.

 

There was still work to do.

 

Mortimer turned around, but stood still when he noticed the figure by the doorway. It was Indio. The bandit looked like hell had chewed him up and spat him back out. Blood trailed down his face and ozzed from holes in his body. His gun was raised and despite the pain he must have been in, had a steady aim on his chest.

 

With own gun spent on bullets, his only option was to buy time-

 

Shots were fired before he had the chance too. The first hit his chest and the second somewhere near his stomach. Each shot felt like a punch, pushing him back against the wall. Rather than let shock take over, he fired back at Indio. If he was going to die then he at least wanted to know that Indio would be joining him soon.

 

With another two bullets in him, Indio finally slumped down, laughing quietly to himself. Mortimer let his own body slide down as the pain started to set in. Looking down he could see the blood starting to leaving his body, soaking his white shirt.

 

He didn’t hear the footsteps coming up the stairs, he was too busy fiddling with his waistcoat, fishing out his watch. Flicking it open, he brushed a thumb over the portrait inside. She was still there, the comforting sight of her face eased some of the pain. Sometimes when he looked into her eyes he could see different kinds of emotions running through them. This time it looked like concern. He frowned. What was wrong? He’d gotten his revenge and now he could die peacefully.

 

“Jesus Christ.” Hands on his shoulders forced him to look back up. It was Manco, frantically  looking around his body and grimacing at the blood that was starting to gather on his trousers. Mortimer thought he looked concerned too, his body was shaking and his eyes looked wider than he had ever seen. They looked striking.

 

“He got me good.” He placed one hand over Manco’s in attempt to stop him checking him over. “But it’s alright.” _I’m happy to go like this_ , is what he meant to say.

 

“No, it’s not alright.” He clenched his teeth and jerked his head. “It wasn’t supposed to go this way.”

 

“You can’t predict how things will go.”

 

The pain was now subsiding, replaced with numbness instead. His hands were starting to feel cold.

 

“No… but I thought I would give this a try at least.”

 

Mortimer didn’t have the energy to be question what he meant, instead he watched Manco with half-lidded eyes.

 

“I hate seeing you like this.  I’m… sorry. We should have stuck to your plan.”

 

He smiled and squeezed his hand with the last of his strength. “Next time then.”

 

Manco’s face softened. Some of the fear disappeared from his eyes, bringing the same type of comfort his sister did.

 

“See you soon, old man.”

 

Closing his eyes, he embraced the darkness with open arms.

 

 _Awake_.

 

This time Mortimer woke more gently, without the fog of sleep clouding his mind. He felt relaxed, even though the dream should have disturbed him. _Was it a premonition?_ He wondered. Even he knew that it sounded like nonsense. He wasn’t the superstitious type.

 

With memories of yesterday still intact, he went about his morning routine. Meeting Manco later in the day meant he had time to make sure his guns were in working order. It meant taking them apart, cleaning any dirt or sand that had accumulated there, applying oil and then putting them back together. With the amount of guns he had it took him an hour or so before he was ready. By the time he had packed them away and gotten something to eat in the bar it was noon.

 

True to his word, Manco walked inside the bar.

 

“After noon.” He nodded in greeting. Manco sat down besides him. He had taken the liberty to order them both a coffee.

 

Manco took the cup and drank. “Thanks.”

 

“So what’s the plan, old man?”

 

“The guards will change shifts soon, it’s a matter waiting for them until then.”

 

The volume of noise in the bar was loud for them to talk quietly without fear of behind overhead.  

 

“I was thinking that you could take the window in your hotel room and I take outside.”

 

 _This time_. It would be nothing like his dream. There were no plans of explosives or hitching up a spot behind the bank.

 

“Sounds good to me, boy.”

 

They continued to drink in silence.

 

“You...uh... get a better nights sleep?”

 

Mortimer looks at Manco with slight surprise. He’d forgotten about mentioning about his poor night’s sleep.

 

“Yeah, thanks….” A silence dawns between them. “I’ve been having strange dreams recently.” He adds, in attempt to ease off the awkwardness. Instead it makes it worse. The conversation ought to be normal, but conversations like this didn’t happened between bounty hunters. It was far too intimate and he had made the mistake of not shutting it down.

 

“What sort of dreams?”

 

 _Please boy, just drop it._ He can’t help but look accustory. Any average man would taken the hint, but Manco holds his stare.  

 

“Or is the question indiscreet?”

 

He hates the way his heart skips a beat. Those words….he felt like he’d heard them before, somewhere deep and locked away in his mind.

 

Something wasn’t right, about him or the dreams, but he has no time to think about it.

 

“No. The question isn’t indiscreet. But the answer could be.” The words leave him automatically. Before Manco has the chance to respond, he stands up. “Let’s get going.” They leave their coffees half-finished.

 

\---

 

Mortimer had been sitting on the window ledge for a few hours, keeping his attention on the possible points of entry into the city. There were three main roads to El Paso, the north street which the bandits used before and two more streets leading east and west. The other roads that branched off the streets were smaller but still accessible for a group of thieves. The bank stood on its own with four roads running either side of it. With no more information to rely on it was impossible to tell what route into the town they would use. The only certainty they had was knowing that they had taken an interest in the changing of guards.

 

If they had gone ahead with their plan of getting Manco to join up with the group they could have gathered more information.

 

Down in the street Mortimer could see Manco tucked away under a stairwell against a shop. He had opted to get closer look, even though he would have a better view standing in his hotel room.

 

Shortly after the sun started to set, a band of several horsemen appeared on the horizon. They wandered over the landscape and approached the town from the north. Amongst them was a cart with two riders. Before entering, they stood still for a moment and looked at the rider at the front.

 

Even from far away Mortimer can recognise Indio.

 

His posture spoke of somebody who had given up caring a long time ago. His shoulders were slumped and his head tilted, as if he were ready to fall asleep. From an outsiders point of view, it was hard to tell how Indio had risen up to the ranks of leading one of the notorious gangs in the west. Mortimer wasn’t fooled by his relaxed appearance. He had learnt during his time that some of the most dangerous men were those who fought like they had nothing to lose.

 

Raising his gun, he hovered the sight over the man. He must be over a hundred feet away, he’d taken shots like that before and come off lucky, but the odds weren’t in his favour. It would be stupid for him to try.

 

Mortimer watched Indio motion for the group to split. Before he could reconsider his chances, they moved. Ten riders split from the group leaving the cart to continue down the street. A sound to his left caught his attention, turning to look back at the bank. The doors to the bank finally opened, revealing three guards. Mortimer started to count, his eyes following them around the corner. He glanced back to the north street to see where the cart was now, but to his surprise it was nowhere to be found.

 

He looked at Manco to see whether he too had missed the cart disappearing, but his attention was still on the bank. He straightened and gripped his pistol, relying on his hearing instead. The town was quiet, he would surely be able to hear the cart and horses.

 

A group of four riders reappeared by Manco’s side. If the bounty hunter hadn’t been tucked under the stairs the group would have seen them. Rather than riding towards the bank they went the opposite way instead. To Mortimer if looked as if they were trying to confuse anybody who was watching, but they couldn’t possibly have known that they were watching.

 

The group disappeared behind more buildings. For a few moments the quietness turned into silence. He felt a few beads of sweat rolled down his neck. The tension was thick, reminding him of the moment they had been waiting for the cart to arrive in his dream.

 

An explosion tore through the silence. Debris flew up from behind the bank, falling down and hitting the buildings surrounding it.

 

The change of guards had meant nothing. They never meant to target the front of the bank.

 

He ran out of the room and down the stairs. By the time he arrived outside a loaded cart and a trail of horses dashed out from El Paso. A body of the security guard was left hanging outside of the bank with a single bullet hole through his head. The villagers began to pour from their houses to check out what had just happened.

 

There was no time to kick themselves about how they had gotten their plan wrong. They both ran for their horses.

 

\---

  


The few minutes head start that the gang had on them created a big difference between them. They raced out of El Paso and up the hill they had taken. On the other side Mortimer could see their figures disappearing, leaving dust clouds as they turned behind another hill.

 

“Stop for a moment.” He barely heard Manco from under the sound of their horses. With slight difficulty, Mortimer managed to pull up on the reigns of his horse, skidding to a halt.

 

“What’s the matter?” He was desperate to keep moving. They had no idea where the gang was based. If they lost sight of them then the trail for finding Indio went cold.

 

“We don’t stand much of a chance going in on our own like this.”

 

“What do you propose on doing then? We have no idea where they’ll go.” He couldn’t help but let his frustration show. Indio was slipping further away every second they spent talking.

 

“I know where they’re going.”

 

He frowned and narrowed his eyes. “And how do you know that?”

 

“I don’t have time to explain,” His horse reared, looking just as impatient as Mortimer felt. “, but we need to get there before they do.”

 

As much as he wanted an answer, Mortimer agreed. “You lead.”

 

\---

 

After three hours of riding without any break, they stopped outside of Agua Caliente. It was a Mexican town, situated just outside the border of Texas. Mortimer had never visited it before. He never had too. In his experience the inhabitants liked to keep to themselves and didn’t take too kindly to strangers, especially Americans.

 

They hid theirs horses outside the town before approaching it. They found a quiet street to walk through. A few people noticed their approach and quickly tugged their wooden hatches shut and bolted their doors. A good idea.

 

“In here.”

 

Manco gestured over to stable that looked unused. They stepped inside.

 

“And now we wait.”

 

It wasn’t a large stable house, only big enough to hold two horses or a few donkeys. There were no animals, only heaps of hay and a few rusty tools.

 

“Now, start talking.”

 

Manco had already started to light a cigar. The smell of smoke could reveal their position, but he didn’t seem to care. “Oh, is that so old man?”

 

Annoyance prickled him. The situation they were in was clearly amusing for the younger one. Were the stakes not high enough for him? Was he really that reckless?

 

“How did you know they were coming here?”

 

“A lucky guess.”

 

His usually calm composure snapped. Jumping forward, he pinned Manco against the wall. His head hit back against the wall, but the action didn’t seem to faze him. Manco regarded him calmly with the cigar still hanging in his lips.

 

“You know something that I don’t boy so get talking.” He fingers dug into his shoulders. Still, Manco watched him evenly. Not getting the reaction he wanted from Manco was even more infuriating.  

 

“I do,” He breathed smoke from the side of his mouth. “, but I tried tellin’ you before and you thought I was crazy.”

 

“You haven't’ said anything to me.”

 

“Yeah… I have.” Manco frowned, some of the amusement fading from his eyes. “We’ve had this conversation many times.”

 

His grip relaxed as confusion replaced his temper. Manco raised his hand, placing it over his. “It’s fine if you don’t remember...”

 

“You _are_ crazy.” None of his words made sense. Perhaps Manco had been lying about knowing how he knew who he was and had met him before, but that didn’t make sense, he would have remembered somebody like Manco.

 

Distance. He needed distance. Mortimer pulled away and walked over to the opposite end of the room.

 

Manco laughed. “Yeah, I am. Should’ve quit trying weeks ago.”

 

His dreams. Somehow his dreams and what Manco was saying now were connected. Even though he wished he could understand the connection something was keeping him from asking the questions he wanted to say. They had perhaps a few minutes or hours before they arrive, now would be the perfect time to ask, but instead Mortimer found a stool and sat.

 

And now they wait.

 

\---

 

A few hours later they heard a group of horses make their way into the town. It could only be them. None of the locals had come to search for them yet, so he didn’t think anybody would alert the group that they were here.

 

Mortimer stood up, itching to move.

 

“If you walk outside now you’re gonna get shot.”

 

He stood still, his hand over the door handle.

 

“I’m not waiting anymore.”

 

“Don’t be stupid.” He sighed and stepped forward. “The only way we get out of this alive is if we stick together.”

 

“And why should I believe you?”

 

Before he could answer, a figure crossed the doorway. They both sunk back, hugging the wall. Mortimer hadn’t heard the person outside until now. If he had walked outside then he could have been seen. Dead before he even had time to raise his gun.

 

“Just trust me.” Manco whispered when the footsteps disappeared.

 

As much as he didn’t like the situation they were in, he knew deep down that they had to continue to work together. His frustration had gotten the better of him. His goal was to kill Indio, regardless of how he achieved it.

 

“Okay.”

 

Manco relaxed a little. “Now we wait until the signal.”

 

\---

 

The moon was out by the time Mortimer heard the signal. It was a gunshot, several following after, and the sound of feet running.

 

He glanced at Manco who nodded. _Now was the time_.

 

They stepped outside and into the darkness. The gunshots were coming from somewhere north in the town. They towards the noises, turning each street corner carefully. The doors and windows on the horses were boarded up, as if the town knew about what danger lurked ahead.

 

Mortimer ducked behind a wall, peaking over to see two members of the gang shooting at each other. He felt like laughing. Of course they would eventually turn on each other. They were criminals afterall. It was against their nature to be able to work together harmoniously.

 

Manco took position behind a wooden cart, watching another gunfight take place. They both waited for the fight to finish before taking aim on the victors. Both of their shots landed and the men fell down onto the floor. There was no time for celebration. If anybody was watching them, their positions were now revealed. Mortimer moved, walking behind the wall and turning the corner of a house. His eyes searched his surroundings for any movement as he did so. They could be picked off as easily as they had killed the other two. It was only a matter of who would see each other first.

 

Mortimer noticed movement up ahead, a man running and taking cover inside a house. He bent behind a wall, taking aim on the open window inside the house. A few seconds later the man’s head poked out. He fired. The bandit tumbled backwards, out of view. He could have sworn that his shots had landed but it had been too quick to tell. As he waited Mortimer could hear shots firing where he had last left Manco. It was pointless thinking about him right now, but he couldn’t help but wonder.

 

His waiting paid off, the man was stupid enough to open the door to the house, leading him right towards Mortimer. He fired another two times and this time the man fell to the floor.

 

Rather than continuing outside, he walked inside the building the man had come out of, closing the door behind him. From the window he could see Manco firing at Juan and Nino. Aside from Indio they were considered the best in the gang. Going against both of them on his own would be difficult.

 

Mortimer leaned down against the window and and took aim on Nino. They were ducking and weaving, firing each time they saw Manco raise to take a shot. When Nino paused to reload Mortimer fired.

 

Juan jumped at the sight of his ally being shot. Manco took advantage of his hesitation, hitting him with two bullets. One in the shoulder and another in the chest. He too soon joined Nino.

 

Manco looked over to him, tipping his head forward with a smirk. He was breathing more than regularly and there subtle redness to his cheeks. They definitely shared one thing in common- the love for the thrill of a gunfight.

 

Mortimer moved away from the window and nudged the door open with his boot. He waited for awhile, before running as quick as he could. Gunshots rained down on the path he took. He felt one clip through his coat and the air of another breeze past his nose. He found the cover of the wall he previously used. Whoever had been firing at him was being fired back. When he heard the cry of a man. Manco appeared, rushing towards him.

 

“You okay?”

 

He nodded. A quick look over Manco’s body told him the same thing.

 

“How many?”

 

“Four, you?”

 

“Three.”

 

“Getting lazy, old man.”

 

Mortimer smiled.

 

“Don’t get so cocky, boy.”

 

Another series of gunshots drew their attention away from each other. If Mortimer had to guess, three or so could have already died from shooting each other and together they had killed seven, leaving only a few left. Even though he felt the odds moving towards their favour, he couldn’t let himself become overconfident. Indio could still alive, or, he hoped he was at least.

 

They moved down the street and towards the gunshots. It was a long street that led out towards the edge of the town. In the middle was a large ring rocks with nothing but sand in the middle. As he reached the opening Mortimer heard the click of a gun being cocked back. He spun around, halting half way when he felt the barrel of a revolver against his cheek.

 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Indio tutting. Before he had the chance to raised his gun, he reached forwards and took it from him, flipping the cylinder open and letting the bullets fall.

 

“Turn around nice and slow.”  Keeping his hands raised he took a careful step around, turning his body to completely face Indio. The madman grinned, taking a good look of his face, as if he was trying to figure out who he was. Mortimer could tell him, buy himself some time so that Manco could help him, but he didn’t want Indio to know. He didn’t deserve to. His death of sister had meant nothing to Indio so his name shouldn’t either.

 

Looking over his shoulder, he searched for the bounty hunter. He was nowhere to be seen.

 

Indio passed him back his colt. Without any bullets, it useless. He slid it back into his holster.

 

“Now take a few steps back, amigo.” Mortimer stepped backwards and stopped when Indio nodded.

 

Indio reached down into his pocket and pulled out a golden watch. The same pockwatch as his. He gritted his teeth. It must have been the pockwatch that had been stolen from Samuel, his sister’s finance. “When the chime ends, draw your gun.”

 

Mortimer stood watching Indio with darkened eyes. There was no chance he could reload his colt in time. By the time it would take him to open the cylinder Indio would have already shot him. It was clear that the bastard wanted to watch him squirm and beg. Unfortunately for him, Mortimer wouldn’t be giving him any satisfaction.  

 

Instead of wasting his last moments thinking about what had gone wrong and what he could’ve done instead, Mortimer allowed himself to enjoy the familiar chime. The notes of the song twinkled into the night, filling his mind with warm and pleasant memories. He remembered the day Samuel had bought the watches. He had nervously approached Mortimer first, asking his advice on whether she would like the gift. Of course she would love them, he’d told him. The next time he had heard the tune had been after their funeral. Rather than burying the watch he had selfish taken it for himself. A token to remind himself of his goal- to get revenge for his sister and Samuel.

 

_Sorry that I failed you._

 

The tune started to fade away, the end approaching. He had memorized every note. Across from him Indio was still grinning.

 

Just as the bandit’s hand moved towards his revolver, the chime started again. At first Mortimer thought the watch was broken, repeating the song again, but the sound came from somewhere else. He glanced to his right, seeing Manco step forward, one hand holding his watch and the other holding a shotgun pointing towards Indio.

 

Mortimer looked down to his broken chain link hanging out from his pocket, seeing that his watch was no longer attached to it. Somehow Manco had managed to steal it.

 

“Very careless of you, old man.”

 

Mortimer couldn’t help but smile in relief.

 

Manco stepped besides him, keeping the shotgun on Indio. Moving his hand under his poncho, he unbuckled his holster and handed it over to him.

 

“Try this.”

 

He took the holster and wrapped it around his waist, understanding what Manco was suggesting. Indio was no longer grinning.

 

It was perfect.

 

“Now we start.”

 

Manco backed away, taking a seat at the sideline. The chime in his hands continued, but this time Mortimer didn’t dwell on the past, his mind was firmly focused on the present.

 

On the final notes the two gunslingers moved. Shots were fired but only one landed. Indio collapsed down to the floor, clutching the rocks on the side.

 

It was over.

 

“Bravo.”

 

Mortimer walked over to Indio and stepped on his wrist, bending down to pick up the watch that had been stolen. Flicking it open, he examined inside. Even though the pocket watch was identical, the image inside was different. It was a black and white image, a shape. The overall silhouette was a circle, but it was made out of many lines connecting to each other, like a maze.

 

An odd sensation swept over his body, causing him to shudder.

 

“You alright?”  Manco asked, now by his side. It felt all too familiar.

 

Closing the watch quickly, he shoves it away. “I’m fine.” His smile came out like a grimace.

 

He knows that Manco can tell something if off, so he turns away.

 

“My boy, you’ve become rich.” The words make him feel sick, but he needs to get away. Mortimer starts to walk.  

 

“You mean we’ve become rich, old man.” Manco returns.

 

“No it’s all for you. I think you deserve it.”

 

His horse is nearby, a few minutes walk outside of the town. All what he needs to do is walk behind the house up ahead so that Manco will lose sight of him.

 

“What about our partnership?” Manco calls.

 

Partnership.

 

His legs finally give out. He manages to grip the side of a wall to stop him from completely collapsing on the floor. The dream he had before when he first arrive in El Paso, it comes back to him like a wall of bricks hitting him.

 

Their partnership…the dream.

 

Manco is at his side in an instant. “Steady there.”

 

There was a reason why everything felt so familiar, why Manco recognised him at the start; this had all happened before in his dreams. The revelation makes him feel sick, like floodgates had just opened in his mind, pouring through an onslaught of information he had forgotten about.

 

One hand holds his shoulder, turning him around so that his back against the wall. It gives him more leverage to prop himself up. The other touches his scalp, checking for any signs for a head injury. Mortimer half-wishes that he’d received some kind of wound that he could excuse his behaviour.

 

When the feeling of nausea passes, Mortimer begins to feel his head clear. Clearer that its felt for weeks or months even.

 

“Let’s continue it.” He manages, focusing back on Manco in front of him. He looks concerned. In the rising sun he can see a faint shine to his eyes and the sheen of sweat on his skin.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Our partnership.”

 

It’s Manco’s turn to look confused, as if he hadn’t been expecting those words.

 

“But there's only one condition.” Mortimer watches Manco refocus. His lips firm. “If we’re going to be working together, you’ll have to answer my questions properly this time.” Answers were something he wanted. He couldn’t walk away from this not knowing what connection there had been with Manco and his dreams.

 

He watches Manco as he thinks through his answer. It gives him time to collect himself. “Okay.” He finally answers. “So, where to then?”

 

Mortimer manages to laugh. “Have you forgotten already? We need to get these bodies rounded up, boy.”

 

Slowly, Manco draws his hands back. His legs are steady enough to carry his own weight now.

 

This time, it’s Mortimer who hears the shuffle of feet. If he’s to go by his dream, then he knows who it is. He draws Manco’s revolver and shoots at the figure turning the corner. The last of the group, Luigi Pistillia. He clutches his throat in surprise, dropping his gun to the floor.

 

Manco watches him with an expression that looks like surprise.

 

“To the partnership.”

  
  



End file.
